Begin Again
by GottaLoveClove
Summary: But on a Wednesday in a cafe, she watched it begin again.


A/N: I love the Clato ship and Taylor Swift, they're my life. Get outta here if you don't like them. I'm feeling asdfghjkl an why so don't ask. By the way, I'm thirteen years old so I'm sorry if this sucks. I've never been on a date. I just know they go to some café or restaurant, talk all night, then do some more sappy stuff like goodnight kisses. Lol. Peace.

**Begin Again**

_Take a deep breath in the mirror  
He didn't like it when I wore high heels but I do  
Turn the lock and put my headphones on  
He always said he didn't get this song but I do  
I do_

"Clove, seriously. It's Wednesday, remember?! You've got a date, you need to fix yourse—**are you even listening to me**?!" my best friend screeched. She pulled my headphones off then glared at me.  
"Of course I'm listening," I say, even though I wasn't listening to her, I was listening to a song that Marvel always said he didn't get. Anyway. Foxy and I have been friends for like, since as long as I can remember. Her name's Finch, but everyone calls her Foxy. Maybe it's because her face shape resembles a fox's.  
She's set me up on a date, and I barely even know the guy. He's fair-skinned and he's got blonde hair and blue eyes. I think his name is Cato. It's been almost a year since my ex and I broke up, and she's been on my case ever since. She was there for me and she said she'd do anything to help me, but I can't remember saying anything about looking for a new boyfriend. Why would I? Love hurts. All it ever does is end. Well, at least that's what I think.  
She shoved a dress into my hands. "Put it on," she says sternly.  
"Well, get out." I say.  
"Oh right, sorry." she laughs then goes out of the room.  
I lock the door and put the dress on. It's a simple black dress that falls above my knees.  
"Can I come in now?" Foxy asks.  
I open the door. "Yeah."  
"Oh. My. Gosh! You're **beautiful**!" she trills excitedly. "Now let's do your hair."  
_You mean the dress is beautiful. Not me._  
I plop down on my bed and let her do her thing.  
She brushed and curled my hair "to perfection", as she says. I look in the mirror. I don't think I'm pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, cute or anything of the sort.  
I mumble my thanks to her.  
"Aw, that was nothing!" she says. "Now go on and have fun!"  
She practically shoved me out the door, and I'm still bare-footed!  
"My shoes!"  
"Oh right!" she gives me my stilettos. "Hurry, you're running late!"  
"It's 2:20. You said the date's 3:00."  
"I mean late for being early!"  
"Whatever."  
"Do you know where the café is?!"  
"Yup." I get into my car and start driving.  
"Bye!" she calls after me, waving. I wave back and drive to the café.

_Walked in, expecting you'd be late  
But you got here early  
And you stand and wave, I walk to you  
You pull my chair out and help me in  
And you don't know how nice that is  
But I do_

I park my car down the block and rush inside the café. I'm expecting the guy to be late, but he's already there. He stands up and waves at me, smiling. Truth be told, I'm nervous. _Very nervous._ But I smile back anyway, and walk to him.  
"Hi," I say. I'm not usually shy, but when I saw him, I suddenly was.  
"Hello," He pulled my chair out and helped me in. He's so nice!  
"Oh, thank you," I say. He smiles that beautiful smile, and I turn to face the window, not wanting him to see me I'm feeling butterflies in my belly. The beautiful kind. I watch him sit down.  
"How do you walk around on those shoes?" he asked. _Is he serious?_  
I laugh, and I can tell he's relieved. He must be a little nervous, too.  
"I don't know either." I say.  
I think of Marvel, and how he said he hated it when I wore high heels. _**Stop**_**,** I mentally scold myself. _**They're not the same guys.**_

_And you throw your head back  
Laughing, like a little kid  
I think it's strange that you think I'm funny  
Cause he never did  
I've been spending the last eight months  
Thinking all love ever does is break  
And burn, and end  
But on a Wednesday, in a café  
I watched it begin again_

"I have a teacher who can run around in heels all day," he says.  
"Same," I say. "Looking at people who do it reminds me of chickens and I don't know why." It's true.  
He laughs. _Is he for real? _  
He's got a cute laugh. It's not hard to like him.  
He thinks I'm funny. I can't help thinking it's strange, because Gale never thought I am.  
"Who is she, anyway?" I asked.  
"Ms Effie Trinket."  
"Oh. What subject does she teach?"  
"English."  
"We're in the same school, then."

_You said you never met one girl who  
Had as many James Taylor records as you, but I do  
We tell stories and you don't know why  
I'm coming off a little shy, but I do_

We talk about ourselves and tell stories, and I got to know him better. We're in the same year, and his classroom is just across mine. He even said he likes "You Belong With Me". It's not a bad thing, in my opinion. I wouldn't think guys were gay if they listen to it. I think it'd be nice if guys listen to that singer—what was her name again—Taylor Swift? It'd be nice if guys would listen to her songs so they could understand girls better…

_But you throw your head back  
Laughing, like a little kid  
I think it's strange that you think I'm funny  
Cause he never did  
I've been spending the last eight months  
Thinking all love ever does is break  
And burn, and end  
But on a Wednesday, in a café  
I watched it begin again_

It was nice talking to him. He has a lot of stories, and I don't know why but I'm interested. _**At least the date didn't go wrong.**_ You know what it's like in movies: the guy forgetting his wallet and both of you ending up washing the dishes (though I doubt if that really happens in real life), and stuff like that. It didn't happen, and everything went smoothly. There wasn't an awkward moment, even. This is the best night of my life_,_ I think. _**Or maybe there's more than what there is now.**_

_And we walk down the block, to my car  
I almost brought him up, but you start to talk  
About the movies that your family watches  
Every single Christmas, and I will  
Talk about that for the first time  
What's past is past_

I look outside, and notice it's already dark. He glanced at his watch.  
"That was weird," he says. "I didn't notice the time."  
"Me either," I say. "I guess we were too caught up."  
"We better get going," he laughs a little, standing up and pulling my chair out again.  
I stand up. "Yeah. My best friend would kill me if we don't make it on time. Thanks, by the way."  
"You're welcome," he says.  
We step outside into the cool night air, and he suddenly stopped walking then tugged at my arm.  
"What is it?" I ask.  
"Let's take a picture," he said.  
"Okay!"  
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls me close to him. I put on my best smile (and maybe so does he) and then he presses the shutter. There was a flash and I instinctively pull his arm down to look at the picture. It came out great.

"Thanks for that."  
"That was nothing,"I smile at him and we continue walking again. I almost brought my ex up, and how he'd think it's silly. I bite my lip to keep from talking.

'_Cause you throw your head back  
Laughing, like a little kid  
I think it's strange that you think I'm funny  
Cause he never did  
I've been spending the last eight months  
Thinking all love ever does is break  
And burn, and end  
But on a Wednesday, in a café  
I watched it begin again  
_  
There was a comfortable silence. We were nearing my car. _**Think of something witty**_, I command myself. I imagined me, running around in high heels, suffering the fate of the people I was talking about before. I resist the urge to laugh. We're steps away from my car. Yes!  
Just then, my mouth decides to betray me.  
"Do you think I'd look crazy if I ran around in these shoes?"  
We both laughed.  
"I can't tell. Would you show me?" he asked.  
"No way! That's insane." I giggle.  
I realise I'm so caught up in my own thoughts; I haven't bothered to know if he even felt the same. And curiosity killed the cat. I asked him if he did. He said yes.  
Then he suddenly turned beet red, God knows why. Oh wait—I know. It's always in the you take a guess?  
He seems to be having a hard time whether to go on with it or not.  
So I stood on tiptoe, pulled him down and kissed him.  
There go the butterflies again.

And now I know that ending isn't the only thing love does.  
_  
But on a Wednesday, in a café, I watched it begin again._


End file.
